


Loyalty to the Law

by Chrissy24601



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 1978!verse, Blow Jobs, M/M, The special bond between a patron and his protégé
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrissy24601/pseuds/Chrissy24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chabouillet promotes his protégé for his diligence in pursuing Jean Valjean, he finds that Javert has taken a particular interest in this fugitive. He does not like that one bit, but Javert convinces his patron that he doesn't need to worry. Much.</p><p>Shameless smutty gift ^_^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyalty to the Law

**Author's Note:**

  * For [byakushi13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=byakushi13).



> For Byakushi13, as payment for a wonderful stack of Philip Quast-gifs!

Sitting behind his desk, Chabouillet didn’t spare the austere man before him a single glance. It was impolite, he realised, but that was the perk of being the man’s superior: he didn’t have to acknowledge the inspector unless he chose to. That prerogative was important to him, as it kept things reasonably sane between them. Or as sane as could be hoped for.

From the very first time he heard of this young guard in Toulon, Chabouillet had been intrigued by Javert – intrigued enough to support his career, at any rate. Throughout his rise through the ranks, Javert had never been ungrateful for his patron’s protection. The way he chose to show his gratitude was perhaps not as unusual as Chabouillet had first thought it was, especially given the man’s background, but it had added a whole new dimension of ‘intriguing’ to Javert.

Unfortunately, apart from intriguing, his protégé’s behaviour could also be very unnerving. This meeting was one of those occasions.

Javert was never very open about his sentiments, but Chabouillet knew from first hand that beneath that stern glare and impeccable stance burned a fierce passion that would show in different ways. He had expected that fire to flare with ambition at the mention of promotion to the Paris prefecture. It had not. Instead, Javert’s dark eyes had drilled holes in the wall with silent fury. The uncharacteristic response bewildered Chabouillet, which he tried to hide with gruffness.

“The transfer will be effective immediately. The district of Le Buse,” Chabouillet said curtly, writing another line of the letter he was drafting for the sheer purpose of looking busy.

“Monsieur,” Javert countered, “I beg to remind you, we have not as yet apprehended the fugitive Jean Valjean. He is still at large.”

Chabouillet leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Javert was sensitive to authority, but never a push-over. It rarely came to a battle of wills between them, but this time, after mustering all his professional authority, Chabouillet gave his protégé a reprimanding glare.

“We _do_ have other considerations here, and foremost among them is the rate of crime in Le Buse.”

Javert’s jaw worked. “But if we stop the search now, he may slip through our fingers.” His voice remained perfectly even throughout, but for all the defiance it carried, he might as well have been shouting.

Chabouillet rose to his feet. He knew Javert liked to tease, coax, and get under people’s skin. It was what made him such a good police spy. But this came too close to unadulterated disobedience. That he could not tolerate, even from this man!

“Inspector, I am ordering you to the district of Le Buse! Do you attempt to argue with me?”

He had meant that to be a rhetorical question, but it lacked punch. The moment he said it, he saw the flicker of incredulous amusement cross Javert’s face and cursed himself as he felt control of the situation slip through his fingers.

A long moment passed in which Javert seemed to weigh his options. But at last he averted his eyes with a sigh of resignation. “Never, sir,” he said.

Chabouillet nodded, daring to exhale again as Javert allowed the proverbial chain to be tightened. “You leave tomorrow morning,” he said, sitting himself down. “That is all.”

Javert did not move. Chabouillet pretended he didn’t feel the gaze that rested on him, just like he pretended not to be aware of the tension that hung between them. It was not uncommon for his office to crackle with such anticipation when Javert was here, nor was it uncommon for them to dispel that tension with an exchange of a different nature. Truth be told, only this morning Chabouillet had dared to hope Javert might be inclined to show his gratitude for this promotion – God knew it had been too long - but that hope had vanished when the name of another had tainted it.

Seconds ticked by. When he did not acknowledge his protégé at all, the momentum eventually dissipated and Javert turned on his heels. Chabouillet kept his gaze firmly on the paper before him as Javert strode to the door.

“Monsieur…”

Chabouillet’s head snapped up at Javert’s voice. Catching himself, he frowned and recomposed to keep his distance. “Well, what is it now?” he demanded. His stern mask fell when he saw Javert staring at an unseen horizon, face set in grim determination. 

“I will _never_ give up the search for Jean Valjean,” said Javert. “If it takes me the rest of my life, I will find him.” His voice drifted off, but then his gaze locked on Chabouillet. “And that is a sacred promise.”

Staring back at those dark eyes, Chabouillet saw that the passion that the inspector had lacked earlier now burned and blazed stronger than ever before. His stomach twisted at the thought that it was not him who had lit that fire.

The click of the door handle started him. “Javert, wait.”

Javert raised a brow, but did not open the door further.

“Close the door,” said Chabouillet. He put his pen down and pushed his chair back, watching the lithe man approach his desk once more. “What is it with this fellow, this Jean Valjean?” he asked.

Javert's lips pursed a fraction. “He is a criminal, monsieur. A repeat offender. In his pretence to be a magistrate, he made a fool not only of me, but of the police and the legal system as a whole. He is... dangerous, monsieur. And therefore he must be caught.”

It seems an honest enough answer, except for the tiny glint in the man's eye when he spoke of Valjean as 'dangerous'. Chabouillet frowned. “The police must set its priorities, Javert. Much as I agree with you that this Valjean belongs behind bars, I cannot allow you to focus on him alone.”

“I will not neglect my duties, monsieur,” Javert replied, “but neither will I allow this man to continue to evade justice.”

Chabouillet shifted uneasily. “Evade justice? Or evade you?” Javert bristled, but he would not let the man interject. “I know you, Javert. I am the last person to ever question your loyalty or dedication to the police force,” his lips quirked, remembering Javert’s dedication to him personally in minute detail, “but you must agree with me that this ‘sacred promise’ of yours is carrying that dedication too far.”

Javert's eyes narrowed. “I do my duty, monsieur,” he said with exaggeration.

“I do not doubt that, but why are you so adamant to catch this one criminal in a city crawling with miscreants? What is so different about him?”

“Valjean is smart, cunning and physically very strong. That in combination with his inclination to break the law makes him a danger to society.”

The undertone of admiration in Javert’s voice was the final drop. Chabouillet shot to his feet, red in the face. “As are so many others!” he barked. “Yet this is the man you pledge your life to!” He caught the slip. “... to catch him,” he added, but the damage was done. 

Javert had noticed the hitch. He broke his formal stance, shifting his weight to one foot. His hips tilted in a way that made Chabouillet's uniform too tight for comfort. In an effort to keep the growing bulge in his trousers from getting any more obvious, he tore his eyes away and looked Javert in the face. He was met with a coy smirk that only sent more blood to his nether regions. Without wanting to, a soft groan rumbled in the back of his throat.

Javert’s gaze did not waver. “I told you Valjean is a thief, monsieur,” he drawled. “Are you afraid he will steal my loyalty as well as my attention?”

“Of course not!” Chabouillet blurted, but his cheeks coloured deeper still despite himself. _Damn that man's perceptiveness! And his narrow waist, and those legs..._ This was exactly why he tended to keep professional meetings with his protégé short: they never stayed professional for long.

Yet he did not move away when Javert rounded the desk with a few long strides, invading Chabouillet's personal space without effort or remorse.

“Valjean cannot steal from me what I no longer possess,” Javert said as his long fingers trailed the trimming of his patron’s coat. “As you well know, monsieur, my loyalty lies with the law.” He leaned in, his breath brushing Chabouillet's flushed face. “And even more so with this one embodiment of the law.”

Trembling with desire, Chabouillet opened his mouth to respond, only to get captured in a deep, sensual kiss. Words died in his throat as a warm tongue invaded and explored him, hot lips strong against his. Javert teased him, coaxed him as he was wont to; played his patron as he guided both of Chabouillet’s hands to his waist.

Chabouillet pulled him closer, but froze, breaking their kiss if not their contact. “We can’t,” he whispered in a husky voice. “I have another meeting soon, and if—“ A finger on his lips hushed him up.

“Then we must be quick,” Javert muttered, nipping kissing along Chabouillet’s jaw, “and discrete.” With that, he pushed his patron back in the chair and slowly went down on his knees before him.

Chabouillet gasped as deft fingers undid the fastenings of his trousers with incredible ease. He shuddered as touches ghosted over his hard flesh, holding his breath when it was freed from the fabric that supported it.

Over the years, ‘quick and discrete’ had come to mean no words, few caresses and no foreplay, but Chabouillet did not miss any of that as Javert’s hot mouth wrapped around him. If he’d had the time, he would have drawn it out, stripping his lithe inspector with every intention to possess him. But as it was, being caught between the expert pressure of Javert’s tongue against his shaft, one hand stroking his balls and the other on the sensitive inside of his thigh, this was all he could ask for and more.

He closed his eyes, panting and shivering with delight as Javert touched his cock exactly right and made very short work of him. “God, yes,” he whispered, “like that…” Feeling himself draw closer, he buried his hands in Javert’s dark curls, gripping him tightly. “Just—like—tha—ah!”

His limbs strained and shuddered as he came, buried to his hilt in his protégé’s mouth. He could feel Javert adjusting his throat to swallow as his patron spilled himself. Such obedience, such dedication…  He let his fingers flex, stroking Javert’s hair in reward as he waited for the rush of his blood to ebb away.

Chabouillet hissed when he was released and cold air brushed past his still heated flesh. With tender care, Javert lapped up a stray drop from the tip before tucking him back and redoing the trouser buttons. Then he slowly rose to his feet, his cheeks pinked and his hair tousled.

“Thank you,” Chabouillet murmured, exhausted yet satisfied. “I really should…” He gestured vaguely at the long folds of Javert’s greatcoat, which did not quite hide that his demonstration of loyalty had not been one-sided only. “If you will allow me…”

“That will not be necessary, monsieur,” Javert said. “I should not keep you from your work.”

“I can hardly let you leave like this, can I?”

“As you said, you haven’t the time now. And even if you did, the purpose of this exchange was to convince you of my loyalty.” He raised a smug brow. “Have I succeeded, monsieur?”

Chabouillet could only nod.

Javert nodded back, evidently pleased in some way if not the physical. He straightened his coat, fixed his hair and picked his hat up from the desk where he had left it. “I shall go and report to the commissaire at La Buse, as ordered. Good day, monsieur.” His long legs carried him to the door, which he opened without another word.

That would not do. “Just a moment, Javert!”

“Yes, monsieur?”

Chabouillet looked at him, worry settling in his stomach once more. “What of this Valjean, inspector?”

Javert frowned at the mention of the name, but as he put on his hat, a tiny smirk pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Rest assured, monsieur. Jean Valjean has nothing on you.” With that, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Sitting behind his desk, Chabouillet realised that regardless of his loyalty to the law – or maybe because of it - Javert would continue his hunt for this Valjean. His stomach churned with jealousy at the thought that his protégé would eventually succeed at that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I borrowed the first half of the dialogue from the movie, but that scene just fit. so. well!
> 
> (Now further editted to counter the worst of my bad English)


End file.
